I'm Commander Shepard!
by World Serpent
Summary: Life keeps throwing me curveballs. From a sudden reincarnation (at least, that's what I call it) to game plots that has the details in different levels of wrong. Maybe whoever created the universe/s is just having a kick in watching me suffer. [Not self-insert. OC-Shepard. Pairings are a long way to go and still undecided. Writing this on the fly. Rating will most likely change.]
1. Happy Birthday!

_**Chapter I:** Happy Birthday!_

I didn't notice anything unusual to my day at first. It seemed just like a normal day; slowly waking up to the darkness of my bedroom with the feeling of cold starting to seep into my blanket-buried body. The perfect way to start the day in my opinion. Slow and steady.

Until someone suddenly switched on the blinding bedroom lights and yanked off my blankets. Rude. It completely ticked me off, and it distracted me for a bit from the odd sensation of being lifted up. Now _that_ got my attention. I would've looked but my eyes were shut tight. Heavy eyelids in the morning, as usual.

Except, this wasn't really the usual. I was flipped over - now it felt like I was on really, really large hands - and was lightly slapped on my butt.

What?

A cry of surprise escaped my lips. I mean, who wouldn't be surprised by suddenly getting _butt-slapped_? And for some reason, I couldn't move my arms nor my legs. Something clicked at that moment, and my train of thought froze and I backtracked to my voice.

That didn't sound like _my_ voice. Not one bit. It sent a shiver through my body, whether it was due to the growing fear inside me of what the hell was even going on or my newly observed state of undress, I had absolutely no clue. Maybe both. I'll take both, with a dash of ever-present anxiety on the side. Though, whomever those large hands belonged to is pretty perceptive, and then my unresponsive body was wrapped with another blanket. It was thin, but I'd take what I can get at that point.

It felt like I was getting transported somewhere - I wasn't really sure other than the feeling of motion. In fact, I might as well take stock with the goings-on with my body, in case I needed to do anything drastic. Just in case.

I tried moving my limbs again, but other than squirming I couldn't do a single thing. I could feel things with my skin just fine - the very soft fabric around my body was testament to that - but everything else seemed… muted. My hearing's shot, everything sounded as if I'm underwater; even my sight was too blurred that I can only identify light and anything that moved. Heck, just opening my eyes were too much of an effort. I can scream just fine, though. Which sucked, since it wasn't even my voice I was using. I can't even talk properly - like I had no teeth - and the voice sounded too high-pitched like a squealing baby.

 _Holy shit._

Baby.

 _No._ Really?

No way.

I had the most frustrating urge to slap my forehead in realization, but of course I can't. Like an itch I can't scratch. Great.

Back to the point, there is no way I'm a baby. Last time I check, I was a fully-fledged adult. Granted not the most responsible one, especially with many of my questionable choices in life, but adult nonetheless.

This had to be a dream. It must be. I mean, everything feels fuzzy that it has got to be a dream.

My inner crisis apparently went unnoticed by the one carrying me - the doctor, most likely, if I am to follow this weird baby dream - and I'm passed on to another pair of hands. Smaller, more delicate hands. Ah, _mother._ It was an instinctual thought. And unbelievably comforting. She cradled my gently and closely to her chest, and despite my underwater hearing, I could hear a feminine voice cooing at me, and then dropping to quieter voice that I had to strain to barely hear.

"-e's so beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is." A soft and deep rumble sounded beside Mother. Like a laugh, I think. It definitely sounded happy. A man's voice. Father? "She has your eyes, Hannah."

Hannah? My mother's name isn't Hannah. I tried squinting as I looked at the face of the woman holding me, as if willing the images I could see to become clearer, but to no avail. It seemed to catch Mother's attention though. "Hello, lil' Bethy."

Bethy?

"Bethy?" Apparently, Father had the same question in his mind.

"Of course, Mama would've adored her." Which one? Yours, his, or mine?

"Bethany." Father's voice cracked. I guess that answered my question. "Y'hear that, little red? Your name is Bethany."

That doesn't sound too bad. At least I'm not a man. It would be much weirder if I suddenly had an extra body part by my lower regions after being a woman for more than two decades. Even if this is a dream.

"Bethany Jane Shepard."

Wait, _what?_

* * *

 **Just something that made its way to my mind and grew on its own. Updates will most likely be inconsistent. This story has no beta reader, as I'm just writing for the fun of it - nothing serious - and decided to share it to the internet on a whim.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**


	2. Baby Megamind

_**Chapter II:** Baby Megamind_

It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.

Like I suddenly wound up being the butt of a cruel, and long-winded joke that fully guaranteed psychological trauma and at least one death. It was such a shitty situation - even if this hero-centric delusion was conjured by my own mind - that my baby-self ended up bawling heavily, much to the confusion of my 'parents'. With the sudden weight of responsibility on my future, even if it wasn't at all real, I'd say the tears were justified. Being a baby with no lid on my emotions made it more severe, however.

Sleep came easily afterwards, mostly due to exhaustion.

The sensation of sleeping inside a dream eventually led to a convenient time skip. I dubbed it a time skip since it felt like only seconds after my vision blacked out, that I woke up well-rested yet very hungry.

It seems to have been at least some hours since I was first awake. It felt like I moved too; the room was much quieter, and it smelled less of antiseptic and more like a refreshing breeze. I would've assumed I was on ground if not for the one window facing me; against the black backdrop were vague shapes slowly moving to and fro. They were ships, if I had to guess it.

I'm in space. Heck, I was just born in space.

The sci-fi enthusiast inside me bubbled up at that thought. Imminent war aside, the Mass Effect universe was a beautiful setting - even through a computer screen - and I was about to live the dream. Quite literally and metaphorically. My excitement was eventually curbed by my ever-growing hunger.

Actually, how do I even tell people I'm hungry? Cry?

I tried; no such luck with the waterworks. Just plain screaming might still do it. I opened my mouth - I would've cleared my throat out of habit but my baby-self didn't seem to have to ability to do so - and a dreadful mix of a scream and laugh tumbled its way out, with a burst of giggles coming as a follow-up.

In one way or another, it was such a ridiculous situation. I also felt a little bit ridiculous.

I've had really crazy dreams before, like my 80-year-old grandfather being my motorcycle driver during a bleary shootout, but this one takes the cake. I'm a baby, for crying out loud.

…And that pun made way for another bout of giggles that declined to full-blown cackling.

It was such a shame my baby-self tired easily now; it eventually led to another time skip - should I just call it sleep? A black out? The loading screen? - and it was probably my brain telling me _not_ to have a mental breakdown.

This time I awoke feeling cool, calm, and collected. Comfortable warmth surrounded me, and my body was gently rocking. It felt like bliss. Drinking milk actually felt pretty relaxing; my hunger was gone in no time, and holy mother of jugs I'm breastfeeding.

I squirmed impulsively, and the Mother immediately shushed me as she whispered calming words I couldn't understand, for some reason. Oddly enough, the back of my mind - instincts - tells me it's normal, and aside from my initial reaction I found myself at ease with breastfeeding. Eventually, I relaxed, deciding to embrace the baby life and the inevitable fate of more feeding from the teat of my mother - who really isn't _my_ mother.

 _It'll end eventually. And I will wake up with another freaky dream I could share with Mom. The real-life mother._

The only saving grace in this equally wonderful and terrifying dream was my baby-self's supposed Mother. Her name was Hannah Shepard, and that at least assured me a not-so traumatic spacer childhood. Unless, of course, every version of Commander Shepard had a mother name Hannah; in which case, I'm screwed in two out of three chances. You know what, I'm screwed regardless of origin.

 ** _-;-_**

Hannah Shepard was anxious. She was ecstatic after giving birth to a healthy baby girl - that much was a given - but events after regarding her daughter - ' _Oh god, I have a daughter.'_ \- was odd enough. Something happened, and the doctors were keeping their lids shut tight about it.

Civilians wouldn't notice the difference; there wasn't anything wrong from the outside. She gave birth, which took longer than she expected, then was wheeled to a private hospital room along with her husband, Daniel, and her daughter. Two hours later, two nurses picked up her little baby for routine care procedure. It didn't take up much time, and her daughter was back in her arms after half an hour.

Dr. Smith, the one who handled the whole childbirth from the very beginning due to Karin's connections, looked nervous as he handed Bethany back however.

In an instant, all of Hannah's infiltrator training stirred and she was straight away aware of everything happening inside the tiny room. She might've just given birth to a child, but actions thoroughly ingrained in her head after so many years of military service was not a problem at all.

"Is something wrong, doctor?" Hannah asked lightly. Being straightforward would be easier; she'll get her answers from his body language regardless of what comes out of his mouth. Her husband perked up from his seat beside the bed, but other than a quick glance towards his wife as an inquiry, he gave nothing away and continued fooling around with Bethany, who had a grip on his thumb.

The doctor froze for a fraction of a second - faint enough not to be noticed if unaware - before he relaxed his posture, out of resignation. "No, nothing is wrong."

Hannah simply raised an eyebrow at the doctor's words, prompting him to continue.

"Bethany is completely healthy. Her brain is another matter, however." This time, both Shepards in the room pointedly focused their gaze towards Dr. Smith, which made him hastily blurt out his next words. Beating around the bush seemed to be the good doctor's passive ability. "It's not dangerous, from what we've seen. Her brain is way too developed compared to the rest of her body. I don't simply mean months ahead; if I'm only looking at the scans, I would assume the records belong to a toddler, at the very least. More numerous, more complex, and more active neural connections. It's… confounding - I haven't seen _anything_ like it."

Hannah and Daniel shared a looked. He wasn't lying. Confusion and surprise colored their eyes, immediately followed by apprehension. This isn't how Hannah imagined the conversation would go.

This time, her husband took the lead. "So you're saying our daughter is… gifted?"

"Much more than that, Admiral." A scowl blipped passed Daniel's face at the mention of his position before he schooled his expression into a blank one a second later. "To look at the scale, this is the first time it ever happened in the entirety of human history. Your daughter could grow up to be an absolute geni-"

A loud cry cleaved through whatever the doctor was trying to say, and now most of Hannah's attention was calming down her daughter. Dr. Smith didn't need to complete his sentence though; his point was crystal clear to both Shepards.

Minutes passed; Bethany had no sign of stopping her sobs, and worry was starting to grow on her parents. Doctor suggestions didn't work either, and the previously strained atmosphere dissolved into something frantic and awkward.

Daniel let out a chuckle - almost inaudible through the sound of his daughter's crying - and Hannah directed a glare towards him. He wasn't the one carrying and rocking the loud, crying baby. He gave her a look of surrender, simultaneously standing up and giving both the loves of his life a kiss on their foreheads.

"I'll talk to him outside."

Nothing more needed to be said after that, and he turned to the door to search for the doctor for a little private talk. Hopefully, it wouldn't escalate to the point of having to pull rank.

Bethany was still crying, and exhaustion was catching up to Hannah. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one getting tired, and her daughter eventually waned off into a sleep.

* * *

 **Thanks for the favorites and reviews, I'm glad somebody else enjoys this. I'm not too good with science/tech jargon, I realized. I'll work on it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**


	3. Prison Body

_**Chapter III:** Prison Body_

I envied babies before for their easygoing lives. Eat, poop, sleep, rinse and repeat. They just looked so relaxed, so never did I think that being one now would be so _agonizing_. My mind is trapped in a body too underdeveloped to move, with only my thoughts - my ever growing fearful thoughts - as company.

Time didn't help. There was no time. How many hours passed? Days? Weeks? How old am I? There was one time I woke up alone; it was dark and quiet - most likely during the evening - and counting up to a hundred just made me feel worse. I cried. I couldn't help it, even if I didn't want to. I couldn't keep my fear in.

Dread kept eating up my insides, and I eventually ended up being a loud, whiny baby. One of the parents shows up whenever I do, and their voice even if they're just shushing me and maybe wishing me to shut up once in a while, was godsent comfort. They talk sometimes; about me, their plans, themselves - even work. Finding out my baby-self is the daughter of an SA Admiral and a Lt. Commander almost made my tiny heart stop.

After that I sometimes felt guilty for demanding attention, stealing some of the their sleep. But hey, I'm a baby.

This time Daniel, the father, was the one on baby duty. He often talked about me; how I often remind him of his mother - that's where I got my red locks, apparently, since both him and his wife were brunettes. This time he sounded tired.

"Don't worry, bud." He tried to assure, as if he could read guilt from my. "Paperwork's just stacking up this time. The station's starting to get filled up with personnel."

Makes sense. That must be Arcturus Station. Thank the stars I read the codex. Was I born there or in a ship? Is he in charge of all of that?

"They gave me direct command of the whole project." He paused, tentatively cradling me closer to his face. His tone was softer when he resumed. "It's… honestly a bit overwhelming; me being a dad and at the same time responsible with the _first_ space station outside Sol is pooling into one giant clusterf… fl..ock?"

He looked like he bit his tongue I just had to giggle. Father responded with a raised brow in feigned indignation. "At least you found it funny." And in a conspiratorial voice, "Don't tell your mother I said that, okay?"

I snickered, carelessly giving him a nod in compliance. Right. Introducing curse words before I can even walk.

Father did a double take, now looking at me with narrowed eyes. "You… understand?" _Duh._

It was very tempting to mess with him, and who am I to even attempt resisting temptation? I burst into another bout of giggles as I shifted my pudgy hands on his face, before nodding gleefully at him multiple times. "Da."

" _What?_ "

The look on his face was priceless.

Keeping myself from breaking down laughing was hard; I had to keep it together and continue. "Da… dada." I patted his face more, also giving his nose a light squeeze.

"…Dada?" His voice was down to a whisper yet also up a couple of octaves. Amazingly, he got his composure faster than I expected and a grin graced his lips. He was warm; my baby-self lucked out with the parents. "I never exactly said 'Dad'…"

Oh I remember, he kept gesturing himself with the word 'Father'. Mother rolled her eyes to that one. Which toothless newborn can even pronounce that?

"…but I'm not complaining." He stood up with me still in his arms. Chuckling as he walked down the hall and most likely to their bedroom. He sounded happy.

"Let's go wake up your mother. She'll be sooo jealous."

 **-;-**

Father jumped on the bed, making me momentarily dazed and Mother almost smacking us both off to the floor. He got a thorough scolding from her, only pacified by me calling her 'Mama'. Now Father owes me one, and I'll remember to collect in a few years.

This led to multiple sessions of baby talk, adding on to my word arsenal with 'Yah and 'Nah' for affirmations, and 'Poo' for food. They made a big deal out of it, because apparently I'm only one and a half months old. Thankfully, they didn't press for disyllabic words. My difficult-to-control tongue easily tired.

Rather than my sudden ability to talk, it was my thorough understanding of what they say and mean that really got their attention. Father talked to me, and Mother's hawk eyes didn't miss a single tell from my baby body. In hindsight, it was pretty funny having Spy-Mom take a baby's body language quite seriously.

They focused on me more now, probably realizing I cry less when I'm not just left with my own thoughts. And baby toys were starting to fill my crib. The thought of them being so attentive with me filled me with warmth, to be honest. It kept my mind distracted, which I was grateful for. I was simply little Bethy.

Father started keeping track with my 'achievements', and it was the very first semblance of time I've had since I arrived in this world.

I started wriggling across my crib when I was two months old.

Crawling was possible by my third month. By this time I had more words added to my vocabulary.

My first teeth appeared on the fourth month. It was uncomfortable, and Mother bought me a strawberry-shaped teether, which I almost never stopped chewing. It wasn't a fun time.

Mother haven't been present much lately, and Father explained she had to slowly start returning to her post in a ship.

I understand.

It didn't stop the unexpected listlessness I felt, though.

It was during one evening that the atmosphere was different from usual. Father was cooking dinner, which rarely happened since he was usually busy with paperwork. I was working on trying to stand when the door to our home opened, and the familiar militant posture that was Mother's had come into view.

"Mama!" My sudden outburst surprised me, and I let go of the bars of my crib as I threw my arms up in - was it glee? My progress in standing crumbled, and I wobbled down to a sitting position.

Mother had one of those rare, beautiful smile bloom on her face, and made her way towards me to plant a kiss on my forehead. "Hello to you too, little red."

I grinned. Father greeted her too, and only then did I realize Mother didn't come home alone. There was a woman a step behind her. The guest was an older woman with short auburn hair. I could spot a few greying hair mixed up, and it was the testament to my improving eyesight. Her emerald eyes looked soft and kind, and the corner of her lips were faintly curled up in a playful smile.

Ah, I've been staring too long. I couldn't help it; she looked oddly familiar. I tilted my head to the side in curiosity, before asking. "Who ar' yoo?"

The older woman's smile grew wider. I'll admit that my pronunciation still needs a little bit of work.

"Hello Bethany. I'm Karin."

* * *

 **Hope you guys like this one! Inspiration struck me early.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**


	4. Unwanted Attention

_**Chapter IV:** Unwanted Attention_

In the yet-to-be-completed Arcturus Station's inhabited zones, it was now the quiet hours of the night cycle. Usually the majority of people were already asleep at this time, yet the active military personnel moving along the site indicated otherwise. It was the 6th of March, 2155 - just a month short of the date for the space station's official inauguration. The approximated year of completion was in fact still a year away, but due to a certain boss' just short of a miracle kind of work efficiency, everything was sped up significantly.

It was an open secret that Adm. Daniel Shepard, or 'Admiral Dad' as a certain little spitfire would call him whenever she was around, wanted to complete it just in time for his prodigy daughter's first birthday. One would've complained that personal indulgences were unbecoming for a top-ranking officer, but nothing overly negative came out of the work rush other than innumerous information and unit rescheduling to tighter shifts and one man's sleepless nights with stack after stack of desk work due to the changes.

There was no figurative whip lashes from behind that urged the project to proceed faster; there was only a display of a charismatic and shrewd man's diplomatic abilities. It wasn't a question that the Alliance brass was impressed, regardless of the motivation.

The motivation, which, in closer inspection, was a worthy investment of time and interest for the brass.

Bethany Jane Shepard. Born on the 11th of April, 2154. She's not yet even a year old and already was she fluent in English, Korean, Spanish, and French in both spoken and written form. That was a fact. There was even talk that she knew university-level mathematics and familiar with history and philosophy. It was staggering news, despite it possibly being blown way out of proportion or just plain incorrect. But even rumors have to come from somewhere, after all, and following the quick research all interested parties dedicated themselves to, there might be some truth to it in the end.

The hospital where she was born - merely a temporary medical center in the station about a year ago - was keeping mum about it. Nurses talked about some odd scans at first, but the sudden influx of strangers 'simply curious' about it grew to a suspicious degree, and one Dr. Elliot Smith firmly instructed them not to say a word of it to outsiders. Only one fact was clear through all this; the Shepard couple knew from the very beginning and tried burying it.

Parental worry, while understandable at first, was now just a bothersome blockade from what several powerful shadows back on Earth, and even a number of watchful eyes in the depths of space, wanted to uncover.

 _ **-;-**_

 _One more meeting. One more and I can go home._ Recently, that mantra has been on loop in Daniel Shepard's mind. He's been so busy that everything seemed to pass by as a blur these days. If Bethany didn't possess her noticeable copper-red hair, the thought of her actually being in his office during some of his work days would completely escape his mind. Lately, a pattern has been established; he took care of her daughter during the first half of the week and Hannah took the rest and the days where he's mostly busy with meetings, mainly due to everybody's workload lightening up when more ships - his wife's included- were docked in Arcturus until the official ceremony in a month ended. The men in his previously designated 34th flotilla of the Third Fleet, mostly personnel reassigned to the station, even became temporary babysitters - not that they were complaining.

It was during one of those babysitting moments that Bethany's rapid lingual proficiency was discovered. Spanish was easily taught - as if she was already familiar with the language beforehand. Korean came next, and French was apparently at the bottom of the list due to her pronunciation - her words was comprehensible, at least. Daniel didn't think a week long daily meeting with his men - the total hours they spent with his kid wasn't even more than twenty-four hours - would make her _baby_ daughter learn _three_ new languages. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry due to the absurdity of it all.

And he didn't want to even think about that one time he caught her sitting on his desk and _typing_ on his computer terminal. He was so overcome with dread - what if she deleted an important file? Sent a mail filled with button-mashed letters to the Systems Alliance Council? Accidentally vid-called one of the Fleet Admirals? - that he sprinted forward to get to her and almost tripped in the process. He wasn't even alone when he came back; his assistant and one marine soldier he wanted to speak with were just behind him and were treated to a very comical scene.

 _"Oh, hey Dad." Her daughter greeted him distractedly, her eyes never leaving the screen. What in the cosmos was she doing? He took a peek, hoping he didn't have to do any sort of damage control._

 _Fuck. He blinked once. Twice._

 _His 11-month-old daughter was browsing the net for human history. Specifically, 20th Century music and entertainment. His guest by the door cleared their throat, and heat rushed to his cheeks out of shame for his less-than-graceful way of handling the situation. He hurriedly tried to reclaim his composure. What a show. Bethany took notice of it too as her eyes fell on the two people standing awkwardly by the open door._

 _"Ah, do you have a meeting, Dad?" He nodded in reply. "Oops. I'll - uh, go find Evans then."_

 _Daniel whispered a stern 'be careful' - as he learned she only needed to be told once - and watched her hop down the seat, and almost skipping across the office and out, giving a brief goodbye to her father's guests._

 _"'Bye, Ms. Walker. Goodbye, Mister - uh," She sneaked a look at the soldier's uniform for his rank and name._

 _'Smart.' He commented nonchalantly, before blinking in realization. 'Wait, how does she even know?'_

 _Her voice turned chipper as she resumed with a trot. "Bye, Corporal Hackett!"_

"Admiral?"

He raised his gaze to the main door to the conference room, cutting off his recollection. His assistant - a confused look on her face - was already there, and most likely also the rest of the Admirals and the SA parliament reps. Right. Here we go.

Daniel opened the door, and to his surprise, the crowd he readied himself for dwindled down to two people.

"Sir," He stood at attention, giving a quick and orderly salute towards the two Fleet Admirals in front of him. Fleet Admiral Fairborne of the First Fleet and Cruys of the Fifth. They might only be two people, but they were a tough crowd nonetheless, this being his first meeting with them in an official setting.

"At ease, Admiral Shepard," Cruys' voice rumble as he returned the salute along with Fairborne, his brown eyes firmly locked to Daniel's. His tone was gruff, and he had a face of a man halfway in his 50s who didn't like any sort of nonsense. "This will only take a moment if we go straight to the point. The meeting for the final preparations for next month will not be necessary. The Fifth Fleet was assigned to be based in Arcturus Station after its completion."

Daniel was internally surprised. Systems Alliance bureaucracy never took this fast to make a decision. It also left a sour taste in his mouth that it wasn't the Third Fleet. As if seeing the bitterness in Daniel's poker face, Fairborne spoke up.

"Third Fleet will be assigned along with Cruys'." The blonde man - just seven years his senior if Daniel remembered correctly - smiled. Okay, this was fine. Fairborne apparently wasn't finished with what he had to say. "And the First Fleet - although we'll be around the Mass Relay leading to Sol rather than the station."

That also made sense. Yet, Daniel kept feeling like there was something else they weren't saying. "That is a surprisingly decisive arrangement" He might as well poke the topic.

Fairborne chuckled at his words - even the corner of Cruys' lips curled up. "Well, you finished Arcturus a year early; that gave the council considerably less time to quibble about it and relegated the assignment to us, which made the following proceedings easier."

Realization struck Shepard.

"Arcturus Station is now officially the Alliance Navy headquarters."

 ** _-;-_**

Evening in a space station was artificial. There was no natural cycle of day and night, and definitely no night sky filled with constellations Hannah Shepard was intimately familiar with like back on Earth. That's why her only condition to her husband about their home was the best view of the infinite void in their living room. On the first day he was able to step foot on Arcturus, he immediately found the perfect place amidst one of the common nonmilitary wards, and weeks later when construction finished, they immediately moved in. Months after that, their family of two was joined by a little bundle of joy.

Hannah was initially distressed about motherhood, since she never grew up with one herself - the streets of Earth's finest slums being her only mentor in childhood - and had no idea what to do, yet the casual insistence Daniel constantly supplied her eventually made her budge.

 _'You'll be a great mother.'_

It was a simple sentence and so stereotypical, yet the way he said it, - his eyes expressing unspoken words she heard much more clearly than the one he faithfully repeated;

 _'You can do it.'_

 _'I trust you.'_

 _'I'll be with you.'_

 _'We'll do it together.'_

 _'I'll support you.'_

 _'I love you.'_

 _'I will never leave you.'_

\- it all made a difference.

This is what she lived for now. Her daughter. Her husband. Her own family.

She looked down on the sofa, towards her lap that turned into a pillow for the sleeping little gem that insisted on cuddling with her as she slept. Hannah knew she'll personally go through hell and back just to keep her family safe.

Her ears picked up the sound of the front door clicking open, followed by a familiar pair of muffled footsteps stopping just behind her; then the comfort of a kiss on top of her head and warmth of her husband's embrace. She didn't need to see it to recognize everything.

"Hey."

She closes her eyes as she lean on him. "Hey yourself."

"No return kisses?"

Hannah leaned her head back, catching sight of his upended face and slowly led his head down by his nape for a light peck on his chin. "There."

He grinned. "Now my day is officially complete." Daniel moved around the sofa, eventually sitting on the only empty space on her right side.

"Anything new? You look happy."

"Mmm, Arcturus is officially the Navy's, I have less paperwork, and tomorrow is a weekend."

"So fast?"

"They said it was due to this place getting done quick. Pieter Cruys and Conall Fairborne personally visited to spread the news."

"You know, I still can't believe you're an Admiral."

"Ouch." He clutched his heart in feigned hurt just before chuckling and waving it away. "What about your day? I'd bet it was muuuch more eventful than mine?"

"Someone tried hacking the hospital for her records."

"What? Okay, _it_ is a bigger deal. They didn't get anything dangerous, did they?"

"No, I encrypted it myself. I also asked Elliot to move them to a private server. Karin helped persuade."

"No trail to follow?"

"No."

They lapse into silence, watching the myriad of unknown stars through the large window in front of them. Hannah glanced at the sleeping girl huddled on her left side. Her breathing was even and eyelids peacefully motionless. She smiled. "You know, she asked me about tells."

Daniel's attention shifted back to her wife, the plans forming inside his head temporarily set aside. "Tell you what?"

She rolled her eyes. " _Tells_. Body language. Microexpressions. How to read people. She asked me to teach her that."

He blinked. "She's turning one next month." A pause. "You taught her?"

"Only basics; the simple things. Mainly how to avoid dangerous strangers." She brushed stray strands of hair from her daughters face, her fingers gently ending up around Bethany's tiny hand and wrist.

A quiet sigh escaped from her husband's lips. He was worried. They both knew why. Maybe she's growing up and learning things a little too fast.

"She's also having nightmares." She said just as she felt Bethany twitch underneath her. "And she doesn't want to admit it."

"…I know."

"She panics whenever it's brought up."

"I know."

"And we'll wait till she wants to tell us."

He looked at her - stared at her - then snickered. "See?"

"See what?"

"You _are_ a great mother."

 _ **-;-**_

Centered inside an office lavishly decorated with antiques and an idiosyncratic mix of modern equipment was a business man, roughly around his 50s, sitting on his leather executive chair as he focused on the number of datapads scattered around his desk. Although his posture was relaxed, he exuded command. He was in charge. The man's eyes darted back to the beginning of the report, skimming through its contents again.

 _Useless_. He grunted, obviously dissatisfied with the lack of the information that he _needed_. His eyes sharply darted to a younger man standing before him. "Is this all?"

The young man's larynx bobbed up and down in nervousness. And he should be; it was a simple job of data bypassing and decryption on a mere hospital yet he failed completely in delivering to him what he demanded. "Y-Yes, sir. Everything I found under the name S-Shepard is there. There- There wasn't anything else, sir."

Nothing there? The business man narrowed his eyes as he contemplated on his words. "Get out." His tone final. "You're dismissed." The younger man hurriedly scurried out.

If it's true, then someone else made off with the records before his employee and deleted it, or it's hidden somewhere else. Regardless, this was more proof that the birth of the perfect child prodigy was really not just hearsay.

His mind went white with rage and resentment at the word.

 _Perfect._

Like it was purposely taunting him. What made it worse was it was a child conceived by two mere military grunts. It made him tremble in indignity, as if the world was purposely rubbing it in his face. _No._ No, he refused to acknowledge this unknown child 'prodigy'. His legacy will _not_ be taken away just like that. _His_ perfect legacy.

A soft knock on the door, barely audible through the turmoil in his mind, broke him out of his frenzied reverie. The man set aside his anger for another day. He checked the time.

5:59 PM

"Come in."

"Yes, Father." The voice belonged to a little girl, her words accented with a slight lilt pleasing to the ears. The door opened and revealed his five-year-old daughter. His legacy. She closed the door behind her, and walked towards him in measured steps - with confidence and dignity - before stopping two feet away from his desk. He checked the time again.

6:00 PM

A sickening smile made its way to his lips.

 _Perfect._

The daughter, however, began feeling uncomfortable from the extended silence. Her father was in a different mood than usual.

He noticed, and forced down a grimace. No, not yet. His eyes trailed to her exquisite raven hair, her celestial blue eyes, and soft alabaster skin. It was good work, but it wasn't perfect. Not yet, but _soon_. He gave her a smile in greeting, its insincerity clear as day for the little girl. "Good evening, Miranda. How was your day?"

The little girl faintly relaxed her unknowingly tense shoulders. This was back to familiar territory now. She returned a smile, equally fictitious yet much better masked than her father's, before she recounted the events of her day. A status report under the guise of the image of an attentive father; laughably apparent, if you asked her.

* * *

 **Little Shep is having a little rest; instead here are things happening around her. And I still need to keep on working on military/sci-fi technicalities. Writing Daniel and Hannah Shepard makes me want to conjure their origin story, they're slowly molding themselves into more substantial characters in my head.** **Also, Miranda and Hackett!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**


	5. Blurred Lines

_**Chapter V:** Blurred Lines_

I'll be a year old tomorrow. Well, Bethany Jane Shepard will be a year old tomorrow. Frankly, I don't know what to feel about that.

Because the 364 days I have been Bethany felt so lucid - _real_ -, that what I primarily considered imaginary was slowly turning into what I think is my reality. I woke up one day and the current life I had just seemed so _right._ Nothing felt wrong. I'm a toddler. A child prodigy, for everything I learned seemed so elementary. Loved by two overprotective career soldiers, I'm essentially an Alliance blueblood.

Yet, at the same time I have memories of another life - the one I originally thought was truly _me_. The gamer girl from Earth, 2017. I geeked out on Bioware games during my university years. Went through two catastrophic relationships that left me averse to a third and change. Dropped out in Software Programming before settling on Fine Arts. I had a job. I had friends. Two cats. My own apartment. Three brothers and a sister. Two loving parents. A name.

Adeline.

 _Does it still belong to me? Or is this not a dream after all?_

Which name is mine? The former or the latter? Both? My mind blanked, as if I unconsciously feared what I would answer. What I wanted to be the answer.

"Adeline who?"

My head snapped up at the source of the query. Karin Chakwas' curious verdant eyes met mine. "W-What?" I stilled. The words were blurted out in panic. Being a kid made me innately antsy about lying, and even if my mind is more than two decades old, going through infancy instilled more than a few childish habits in me. I broke eye contact - now I was just being obvious - and I nervously glanced at the grand hall filled with almost all the important people in the human race. Well-renowned businessmen, politicians, high-ranking military officers along with some of their family - all mingling on the eve of the station inauguration.

She kept her gaze leveled on my face, only momentarily looking at her hand that I was gripping tensely. Karin's eyebrow raised both in amusement and worry in my reaction, then moved her free hand to my forehead and gently smoothed out my creased brows. The gesture felt nice, and I slowly unwound my knotted thoughts along. She let out a chuckle, before softly reprimanding me. "You'll get wrinkles like mine if you keep thinking too much like that, Beth. You're still a baby and you look more stressed than your father."

"I'm not a baby." I grumbled underneath a pout, keeping my gaze to the floor. They kept reminding me, but it wasn't true at all. I would never tell them why. Giving it away might make the dream end, or make everything doubtlessly real. Both are things I don't want to think about yet.

"Unless you can show me a complete set of teeth as evidence, you're a baby to me whether you like it or not." Karin responded, before subtly leading the topic back. "Do you recognize someone here?"

"Oh." I stared ahead at the crowd with a blank look. She thought the name I muttered was another person's. Well, it's a convenient misunderstanding if nothing else. I shook my head, feeling much more relaxed now. "No, I thought I did too."

Another problem - the occasional dreams that hurt so much to remember they might as well be nightmares - will never escape from the confines of my mind until I had this stupid existential crisis sorted out. I doubt anyone would believe a toddler questioning the meaning of their life - or in my case, lives. A bitter smile graced my lips. Everything felt more complicated than it actually was whenever I thought about _this._

"What's on your mind, sweetie?" It was mom, err, Hannah Shepard - whichever name, title I'd eventually call her - and she was back from getting drinks. Wine for her and the good doctor, and fruit punch for me. Where she got me the sippy cup, I had absolutely no idea. I accepted drink with good grace. I like fruit juice, whether in this life or the former, so it was a fairly easy ordeal. I'll totally just ignore some of the people's looks that definitely told me I'm adorable in my white and green dress and matching sippy cup.

I simply shrugged, giving a short answer with the spout still in my mouth. "Nothin' much. Jus' people wa'chin'." The answer seemed enough, and Mother began conversing with Karin just above me. Whatever it was about didn't register in my mind. I focused more on the crowd, internally enthusiastic with the possibility of meeting some 'characters'.

Hackett was undoubtedly not here. He was basically still a no-name soldier around this time, rather than Admiral. A Corporal, if my memory from months ago isn't mistaken. Heck, seeing him out of the blue like that almost made me squeal.

My eyes scanned the crowd once more, unaware of my feet taking me closer to get a better view. There were plenty of Admirals present, whom I recognized due to the few times I'd guiltily sneak a peek at Alliance files with Admiral Dad's terminal authorization whenever he wasn't around his office. There were also a few country Representatives and actual Presidents present. Basically a gathering of serious, scary adults in the eyes of a normal kid. I wasn't easily fazed, but the odd, almost calculating looks I could feel at the back of my head was starting to feel uncomfortable.

Then I spotted a group, almost by the center of the hall. Many of the people around them had their attention directed at the group; specifically, on one middle-aged man who looked very stoic beside the man who was regaling the crowd with a tale. I recognized the broody man's face from the internet, since his picture came up as much as the articles of the discovery of mass relays.

Jon Grissom. The first man to lead a team through a mass relay. So-called Alliance hero. Honestly speaking, I felt awed for a moment if only because of his name frequently popping up in the games and novel, before another figure caught my attention.

A very small figure. One of the men in suits attempting to talk to Jon Grissom had a little girl standing beside her. She stood out like a sore thumb, since she was probably the youngest person here, bar myself. The more I stared at the figure, the more I could sense a little bit of familiarity with the way the girl carried herself. I could only spot a view of her side, but the silky black hair and her posture - aloof and self-assured - was enough to give me an idea - or _hope_ \- on who she was. I promptly spun around in a circle, searching for Father so I'd have a buffer, only having to stop after doing a 180-degree turn to find him directly behind me, giving me a little bit of surprise.

"Dad!"

"Hey, twerp." He flashed me a grin, ruffling my hair a little bit at the same time. His eyes weren't on me, though, but on the surrounding in a clear act of looking out for me. Maybe I shouldn't have roamed around on my own. "What're you doing all the way here?"

"People watchin'," I gushed in a rush, before excitedly grabbing his left leg and nudging him towards Grissom, and indirectly, towards my actual target. "Look, look. Dad, look! It's Jon Grissom! Can I meet 'im?"

My childlike excitement caught him off guard, since this was the first time I acted this way with someone. He gave me a long look that basically told, _'I'm not believing this act'_. The corner of my lips twitched, and I gave him the stink eye. Change of plans, then. This time I didn't say anything, as if I'm waiting for his response; merely maintaining my hold on his leg while I strained my eyes in an attempt to point towards the only person inside this place who was near my age in an inconspicuous manner. It took a few seconds for Father to follow this absurd game of charades before he finally got it.

His mouth opened in a silent _'oh'_ , realization clear on his face before he shook his head with a short laugh.

 _C'mon, you get it, yes? Let's go make me a friend._

As if reading my thought, he looked at me as he responded; his eyes shining with playfulness. "Welll, Mr. Grissom seems a bit busy right now, little red. Why don't I let you meet someone closer to your age, instead?"

"What? Why?" I stared at him unbelievingly, my eyes comically wide. "Aww!" I topped it off with an exaggerated pout that, whilst totally an obvious act of mine to people who personally knew me, looked like the typical way a spoiled little baby acts. It got to the point that our little scene entertained a few of the guests near us that some attempted silly baby talk with me. Both me and Dad had quite a difficult time holding in our laughs from all the attention we were getting.

All this acting for me wasn't necessary before - I usually acted like an adult, regardless of who was with me - but after overhearing both Mother and Father talking about unknown strangers oddly interested in me and my brains, I figured playing the fool would be safer. It was a severe reminder that this wasn't the peaceful life I used to lived; being the daughter of an Admiral wasn't exactly low-profile, and being in danger was naturally scary.

Eventually, our little two-man show had to end and I dragged him off, which Dad seemed thankful for. It was probably due to the few veiled insults I casually threw to strangers. I had nothing against them, but being a baby was like having a get-out-of-jail-free card for being rude and I may or may not have been abusing that ability. The child in me pretty much insisted.

"Don't be like that in the future." He chided me in hushed tones. "We're gonna get in trouble next time, you know."

"But I was just being honest about her make up." I insisted innocently, directing a pair of green puppy eyes at him. "Mrs. Lorrell's face really made her look like a-"

"Oookay, bud. You better stop right there before I take you back to your mother."

I shot him a toothy grin. It was always fun talking with him, lighthearted and fun, even when he was busy with work. "C'mon, c'mon! I wanna meet Sarah already."

"Do you know her, little red?"

"Nope." I answered cheerily, keeping pace beside Father. "She looks like a Sarah, though. Or a Yvonne." A wide smile was pretty much plastered on my face as I thought of another name. "Or a Miranda?"

 ** _-;-_**

In all her five years of life, Miranda Lawson had never attended any sort of social gathering - courtesy of her father. In fact, she had never been able to step foot outside the bounds of Lawson Estate, her supposed home. Her father made sure she didn't have any reason to go out; and all her life necessities were delivered right at the foot of her bedroom door from dresses, food, books, and even the tutors. Those made her happy at first, like a spoiled little princess, yet as time passed and from the way her father treated her it became abundantly clear that she was simply a trophy. An object of interest, and often enough a subject to a few 'tests'. Fear slowly trickled in her mind, but she was able to keep her mask steady as time passed.

And now she's in space - millions of lightyears away from her only familiar place - and smack dab in the middle of a party. It irked her, especially how there were _so_ many people - _adults_ like her father - in one place.

 _I don't need to be here. Why am I here?_

She hid her nerves well, but that didn't make it better. It even worsened when so many people approached Miranda and her father. ' _Don't forget to greet and smile'_ , her father warned _._ Unwilling face muscles had quite a workout for longer than she had liked. Eventually, her mind wandered around; silently criticizing the words and company of random diplomats her eyes landed on. This was how she spotted an interesting sight just by the corner of her vision. There was someone younger than her, a redheaded girl in a white-green dress with a sippy cup in hand, wandering through the halls. She looked different from Miranda, though.

Only when a man in military dress blues, possibly the redhead's father, walked near did she realize why. The pair looked happy, and the younger girl looked so carefree and innocent it made Miranda _ache_ inside. It took a few seconds of observation to figure out the reason; she might have been jealous. Lonely. The father-daughter pair was the antithesis to her current life.

 _It must be fun._

She tore her eyes away - anywhere that didn't have them in sight - and instead focused on her father's conversations.

"…-ch more could be found in the Archives. It was thanks to your company's continuous funding that more data about advanced technology could be unearth, Mr. Lawson."

A hearty laugh resounded from her father. He had a modest smile put for show. "You flatter me, Doctor. I am simply giving for humanity's best interest. The insights your team gave for an improved FTL drive core made quite a drastic change in the-" _What a sham._ Miranda didn't bother finish listening, briefly closing her eyes as she wished she could go back to Earth. Every business venture her father made was always accompanied by a mole, digging for tech schemes and maybe even a few sensitive information to wield against them in the event that their deal went south.

Even if he was found out, he didn't have to worry. What is an exorbitant amount of money for if not to sweep things like this under the rug? Her father had no idea she was aware of any of this, and Miranda would have it easier if it stayed that way.

She opened her eyes, startled at the unexpected pair of emerald orbs staring back at her. A moment later the very same eyes glimmered gleefully towards her in… recognition? _Who is she?_ It was the younger girl from earlier; now merely a meter away from her. Miranda didn't even notice them approach. The contact was broken just as the man with the little girl greeted Miranda's father amicably, to the little girl's surprise, apparently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Shepard." Miranda's father matched the man's energy. "Although it's Admiral now, isn't? I can never properly keep track, I imagine your swift ascent in the ranks has been quite a campaign."

"Hard work and luck, that's all there is to it. How has business been treating you, Henry?" The name confused Miranda. She overhead her father speaking the Admiral's name with so much venom once, back at the estate, yet now he acts as if they were once old friends. Miranda looked again at the little girl in front of her. She was small, and at least a foot shorter than Miranda, yet her eyes - aimed towards Miranda's father - felt too mature for that little body. Almost like an adult's; it was calculating, as if she's measuring every action for credibility. Miranda almost missed the tiny twitch of the little girl's lips, as if restraining a sneer, if she wasn't staring too much. It was a far cry from the naivety she spotted earlier.

"This must be the Shepard prodigy?" The question snapped Miranda out of her thoughts - realizing she missed a few bits of the conversation - as did the little girl, who now stared up towards Henry Lawson with childlike curiosity, as if animosity didn't color her features earlier.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, pup?" The older Shepard nudged the little girl, who complied readily.

"Hello! I'm Bethany." The little girl, Bethany, sounded _too_ cheery for Miranda's liking. Like the screeching she would usually hear from younger, immature kids playing together and wasting their time on a playground. "What's your name?"

It took a bit of time to realize Bethany was actually talking to her, and just as Miranda opened her mouth to reply, her father's hand came to rest on her shoulder - the contact making her skin crawl and her words dragged back down her throat. She schooled her face to a neutral blank. _Ignore it and be a good girl._

"This is my beloved daughter, Miranda Lawson." One word didn't belong in that sentence. Both girls knew which, it seemed. Miranda wondered how, but Bethany simply gave her an unflinching gaze giving nothing away. Maybe Miranda was simply imagining all of this from all her time of solitude. A genuine friend was simply a stupid fancy. "I hope the two of you could become friends."

* * *

 **This chapter was a bit difficult to write? I'll be coming back to this for a few minor edits when I think it needs some word change/addition. Feel free to let me know how it is.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**


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